You're My Thrill
by Quirky Del
Summary: Skittery has a very good night. Author's Cut, if you will, from 'Running With the Moon'...you do NOT have to read that to read this, however, it stands alone. ONE SHOT


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**Author's Note – I have a story called 'Running With the Moon' where each chapter represents one character. It takes place during the early days of WWII, and I am particularly fond of my little section for Skittery. So, I've decided to put it down here as a one shot for him, as well, why? Because Skitts deserves his own oneshot, yeah? Yeah!**

**Author's Note Zee 2nd - Billie Holiday was a singer in the 1930's and 40's, she's known for her meloncholy tunes and raw voice... greatest female singer, by the way!**

**Standard Disclaimer – Don't own Newsies, don't own Lady Day, don't own nothin...ha, those Newsboys are bad for my grammar! hehee**

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**YOU'RE MY THRILL **

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A gentle breeze lapped at Private Skittery's face as he aimlessly wandered the unusually quiet city streets. A restless feeling settled around him that he couldn't quite shake. Here they were, shipping out in a day – he should spending his free night doing something worthwhile – instead of walking around all glum and dumb.

"Hey, Skitts! I been looking everything for you!"

Skittery regarded the young man in front of him. He was panting slightly, attempting to catch his breath. They were the same age, but his friend had a baby face, earning him the nickname of 'Baby Mush' – or just 'Mush' for short.

"Whassa matter? Someone die or somethin?" Skittery asked, his prevailant pessimism poking through.

"Nah – way better! You're not gonna believe me when I tell you!" Anxious excitement seeped out of Mush in waves as he bounced with pride at being the one to bear the good news.

"Alright – so why don't ya just tell me already?"

"_She's here!_" he whispered conspiratorially.

Confusion flitted across his strong features. "_Who's_ here?"

"Who's the one goil you want to see more than any other?"

"Billie Holiday – " Skittery answered sarcastically.

"**_Exactly!_**"

Time seemed to immobilize; the stars were snuffed from the sky, the street lamps dimmed, traffic stopped – it's like the world around him completely disappeared, leaving only a dense black backdrop in it's wake. A shower of white gardenias swirled around him and then all he could hear was 'Lady Day's' vulnerable voice wrapping round.

"Ah – Skittery?"

He snapped his eyes open – he hadn't even noticed that he had closed them; the daydream had been so real. The world fell back down around him with a thundering crash and he struggled to regain his focus.

"She's in town?"

Mush smiled with relief. "Yeah, she's gonna be singing at the 'Doleful Lily'."

"On 42nd?"

"Yeah –"

"Thanks a million, Mush! Gotta go!" Skittery dashed off, leaving his friend staring after him in amusement.

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His feet were raw, his bones ached – but he made it. The other side of town and an hour later, he was standing outside of the building that currently housed the woman of his dreams. He was thankful that the club didn't start the live entertainment until late. He had left Jack to his wallowing at about half past eight, a couple of hours must have passed since then. He glanced down at his wrist out of habit, forgetting that his watch broke a week ago during one of their training drills. He methodically reached a hand up to tilt his hat to the side slightly, making sure that he looked his best. One of the first things he learned when he enlisted was that you never wore your hat straight on – unless you were a real cornbread square – no, no – the way to wear it was to have it tipped ever so slightly to one side; that's what distinguished the ladies' men from the mamma's boys. Satisfied with his appearance he entered the smoky club, nodding to the doorman as he passed. His eyes quickly darted towards the small stage – it was empty. Good – he didn't want to miss anything. His long legs meandered through the packed house, his bright eyes in search of an empty table.

"Heya, soldier!"

He swung round to see a small group of girls giggling at him, seated at a table in the very front, right smack in front of where his siren would soon be belting out her tunes.

"You wanna join us?" a brunette tittered, flashing him a mouthful of white.

"Sure, thanks." He grabbed a nearby chair that was shoved against a wall and brought it to the table, placing himself in the spot closest to the the stage.

"Tell us your name, handsome," the redhead purred.

"Skittery."

"Skittery? Skittery, what?"

"Just Skittery, no one calls me by my first name," he dismissed, not paying a whit of attention to her.

"Well, 'Just Skittery'," she teased, leaning over the table to show the advantageous peek of her low cut blouse. "You got a girl back home?"

At this, Skittery finally turned to her with a smirk. "Ya don't waste much time, do ya?"

She flipped a lock of her hair back in a gesture she no doubt thought was very attractive. "Why should I waste time? 'Specially in times like these?"

He merely chuckled lightly, but any retort died on his lips as he saw a tall man walk out onto stage, seating himself behind his trusty ivory keys. This was it – she would be sauntering out any moment now. He sat up straight, his skin tingling with anticipation – and then it happened.

There she was in all of her glittering glory. The snowy satin dress contrasted sharply with her dark smooth skin. Her pianist began to strum the first keys to 'Don't Know if I'm Comin' or Goin'.

As soon as she opened her mouth and scrumptiously began to sing "You've got me..." Skittery's lids fluttered shut as he slowly inhaled a deep relaxing breath. He slowly opened his eyes, savouring the sight before him.

She was glorious...

One of the girls whispered something to him, but he ignored her, focusing only on his Billie's sweet melancholy voice caressing his ears. The girl said something again, mistaking his silence for his not hearing her; this only earned her a quick glare from him before he promptly fixed his attention back to his Lady. Time seemed to fade and crumble away as she spun each song from bewitching lips, balling him into a pleasant foggy haze.

"Put your arms around me..." the words left her lips like little rainbow bubbles when the unthinkable happened – her dark and penetrating eyes fell right onto Skittery. "I can say I'm only lending, when I give my heart to you..." she continued, still holding his gaze.

His senses were pricked on edge, he could feel her gaze ensnaring him; the blood began to kick and hum though his veins. She smiled at him before she turned, dragging her gaze away and around the room. Skittery suddenly felt cold with the loss of contact.

- - - - - - -

He had been sitting, mesmerized, for the last two hours. A cute little waitress had been by several times asking if he wanted a drink, each time he politely waved her away without even glancing up. About halfway though the show the girls at his table had left. He had distinctly heard the redhead grumbling about him being a 'waste of time after all', but he didn't care. He was just glad that they had finally left him alone. Nothing mattered to him right now expect for the singing goddess before him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Billie's scratchy voice rang through the crowd. "You've all been a great audience and I thank you. For my last song tonight, I'd like to do one that's very close to my heart. It's called 'Strange Fruit'."

The haunting melody opened, leaking bits of bleak despair into the air. A hush fell over everyone as the morose words brushed the atmosphere with sorrow.

Skittery watched her closely, her melancholy tainted beauty tugging at his heart. Her voice was so weathered, her bones so weary – he wondered what sort of unhappy trials plagued her for her to be so tired at such a ripe age. She was only 8 or 9 years his senior, but her eyes were aged so much beyond that.

As she continued her musical lament on racial injustice, he stiffened. He raged at the thought that some people could be so evil, twisted, and sadly misguided as to think that the colour of someone's skin could mean anything at all. He may not be the most educated guy in the world but he certainly wasn't idiotic enough to think that segregation was the right idea. Who cared what so called 'race' anyone was? Being a good person – wasn't that all that mattered? Yeah, in a perfect world, he thought bitterly.

She finished that last eerie note and bowed her head slightly, her trademark white gardenias in her hair glowing in the spotlight. She muttered another thanks and then it happened again – she smiled right at him before disappearing offstage.

He was glued to his chair, his pupils dilated – _she noticed him_ – and not once, but twice! The proprietor was bustling about, announcing the impending closing of the club as the patrons scurried away.

"Hey, buddy – time to go."

Skittery looked up at the balding man before slowly rising to his feet. He walked out of the club; that club that would forever hold a special place in his heart from that night forward. He retrieved his cigarettes out of his pockets and tried to light one, but the breeze impeded his flame. He took a few steps over to seek refuge at the side of the building, blocking out the wind. His back leaned against the cool brick as his lungs reveled in the nicotine he fed them.

"So, what's your name, soldier?"

He turned his head to the right, toward the soft voice calling to him. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped, causing his cigarette to drop from his parted lips and fall, unnoticed, on the ground.

She laughed throatily, her usual stormy eyes sparkling with mischief. "Alright, I'll start, then. Hello, I'm Billie –" she reached a small hand out.

"Uh - " he was having an increasingly difficult time realizing that this wasn't another one of his dreams. "Skittery – _Michael Skittery._" He took her hand in his trembling one, shakily bringing it up to brush his lips across of her knuckles before releasing it in a sudden burst of embarrassment.

She smiled widely. "Michael Skittery," she repeated, and he thought hearing his name coming from her lips was just about the single most beautiful sound in the entire world. "Thank you for coming to my show – I don't know if I've ever had a more ardent listener before. It was nice."

"Oh, well, uh," he stammered. "I love you –" his face flamed, "I mean, I love your music, Billie – _Miss Holiday_." He had swiftly taken off his cap in his befuddlement, only just remembering the golden rule of always removing your hat in the presence of a lady – and oh, this was the greatest lady of them all, he though gushingly.

"Well, you can call me Billie if I can call you Michael," she grinned cheekily at him.

"Of course!" He flushed. "Billie," he added, delighted at the prospect of being on a first name basis with her.

A man and a woman walked out through the side door just then and paused.

"You ready, Billie?" asked the man, his arm linked with the mousy woman next to him.

"Sure, I'll be along in a minute," she answered, prompting the man and woman to walk past to a waiting car on the road. She looked back at Skittery, tilting her head in assessment.

"It's been really nice meeting you, Micheal."

"Meeting you is just about the best thing that's ever happened me..." he raised a brow as he realized that he had just admitted that out loud.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly. She almost giggled at the enormously pleased look covering him. "Michael?"

"Mhmm?" he breathed, unable to articulate anything more.

She stepped back into him and gently placed her lips over his own for one deliciously agonizing minute before pulling away, smiling.

"Maybe I'll see you around again sometime, Army."

"Oh God, I sure as hell hope so..." he murmured though a dreamy smile.

She laughed again. "Me, too," she said kindly. "I think you're good for my ego." She reached a hand up, untangling one of her her ever present gardenias from her raven hair. She placed it in his hand, the soft petals mixing with his rough skin. The corners of her mouth quirked. "Something to remember me by. You take care out there, Michael Skittery." She regarded him tenderly a moment before turning around to join her waiting party in the car.

"Billie?" His voice shot through the air, making her stop and look at him expectantly.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, baby." She blinded him with that saucy grin once more before entering the car and vanishing.

He stood there, unsure if he had been frozen there for hours or merely minutes. He didn't want this heavenly night to end. He glanced down at the delicate flower still clutched in his hand as he reached the other one to touch his lips.

_Billie Holiday KISSED ME!_ _She knows my name..._

These thoughts clouded his brain in a mantra as he began the long walk back to the barracks. He felt as if his chest was being invaded by a million bees, clamouring around, pushing for dominance over each other. He felt wonderful. He floated the rest of the way back on these thoughts, the white gardenia guiding him happily through his hopped up stupor.

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**I would Love a review! I know some of you lovlies already reviewed when it was part of Running With the Moon, but I would love to have another if you've the fancy: ) Thanks very much for reading!**


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